


Negotiating Spaces

by nyagosstar



Series: Better With Two [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4657149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/pseuds/nyagosstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krem has never wanted to stay behind before. He's never had a reason. He's never wanted to write letters, either, but it's all coming to a head when the Qun come calling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiating Spaces

There is something soothing about watching Felix work. Krem is leaning in the doorway to a private room off of the library, his arms crossed over his chest while Felix works. His head is bent over sheets and sheets of parchment, thick, neat lines of script already covering several pages. Krem wasn’t quiet in his approach, but Felix is so intent on his work that he hasn’t looked up. Krem clears his throat, but doesn’t move, just lets Felix look up and then lean back in surprise.

“Krem. What are you doing here?”

“Just admiring the view,” he says and then gets to enjoy the sweet curve of Felix’s lips into a smile. Light coming in through the window washes Felix in warm gold so that he glows and is surrounded by a million swirling dust motes. “What are you working on, handsome?”

Felix preens a bit under the name, sitting up a bit straighter, rolling back his shoulders, before answering. “Perfect numbers.” 

With a push off from the wall Krem prowls to the table, sliding up to sit on the surface instead of the nearby chair. When Felix hands over his more current sheet, it looks like another language. Krem is good with languages, they come easily to him the way some people take to water. Looking at the numbers and letters spread out on the page, though, he feels like he’s never spoken a single word before. “This looks complicated.”

Felix holds out a hand and rocks it back and forth. “The numbers themselves aren’t complicated. Trying to develop a proof for them is. What are you up to?”

“Oh, you know. Cullen brought in some new troops that needed to be taught a lesson. It was a good morning.” Nothing he likes better than introducing a little humility to the ones who think they know everything because they used to swing sticks at their brothers. And digging out the beginnings of talent in the ones who have never even seen a sword. It’s good work. His shoulders are aching, his throat is a little raw from shouting and he’s high on the pleasure of a job well done. The long soak in the baths went a long way to brightening his mood, as well.

“I’m sorry I missed that.” Felix runs the back of his finger along Krem’s thigh. “Competence is so very attractive.”

Krem grins and tries not to shiver under the touch. He bends toward Felix, who pulls his lower lip into his mouth in anticipation. “Well, in that case, I should let you know—“

“Krem! Pack it in, we’ve got a mission.” The Chief’s voice rings through the little alcove and Krem drops his head to rest against Felix’s forehead. The Iron Bull rounds the corner and then had the grace to look at least a little sorry. “Two minutes,” he holds up his fingers and then heads out.

He could swear and lament his fate, or he can put his two minutes to good use. Krem slides his hands up to cup either side Felix’s face and holds his gaze. “I could look at you for hours.” He can feel Felix’s swallow.

“I’d rather you do something else with your time.” Felix leans in and presses their lips together, slow and easy. Everything is easy with Felix. His hands twist into the fabric of Krem’s shirt.

They stay locked in each other’s arms until Krem’s internal clock tells him time is up. He breaks away, though it’s the last thing he wants to do. “I’ll see you soon.” He can’t help himself, steals one last kiss, though he knows The Chief is going to dog him about it.

“Be safe.”

#

The Storm Coast is both aptly named and also a pain in the ass. 

Krem hates Gatt on sight. It’s not that Gatt has a history with the Chief that Krem can’t have, it’s not that he’s a sanctimonious asshole who thinks the whole world would be better under the Qun. It’s not even that he takes one look at Krem and identifies him as aqun-athlok, like he’s the fucking authority on a stranger’s gender.

It’s the wild and kind of dead look in his eye and how disappointed he seems when he doesn’t see a similar look in the Chief.

His only consolation is that Dorian also hates him. They sit together around the fire at night while the Chief and Gatt talk over old times. There’s a viciousness to Gatt’s stories that makes Krem’s skin crawl. Krem might get paid to kill people, but he gets to decide who those people are and they’ve usually got it coming.

“I don’t like to talk poorly of others—“

Krem grunts. “Since when?”

“Point.” Dorian leans closer to the fire. The only reason Krem isn’t inching closer to the flame is because he’s gotten used to the colder climate. “Have you,” Dorian pauses, looks across the fire and lowers his voice. “Have you been around him with other Qunari before?”

“A few times.” On occasion, a messenger will find Bull with instructions from his home. Mostly, the Chief seems to avoid his kind. “He’s always a bit weird when they’re around.”

“I don’t like it.” Across the camp, the Chief roars with laughter and Dorian’s frown deepens. “That’s it. I’m going to bed.” He stalks to the tent he shares with the Chief, his steps slowing as he nears the entrance. If he’s waiting for the Chief to notice and join him, he’s disappointed and goes in alone.

Krem’s on first watch. He enjoys watching the camp settle and quiet. It takes a couple of hours, but eventually most everyone heads to get some rest. Gatt wanders off to find his bed and the Chief comes over to share a drink. He’s loose-limbed and relaxed the way he usually is only after sex. “Krem. Keeping everyone safe.” From anyone else it would be a jab, but the Chief knows how seriously he takes his responsibly.

“Trying. Your friend seems,” he pauses and realizes there isn’t a graceful way to end the sentence without a lie. He shouldn’t have started it. 

The Chief shrugs. “Seheron,” he says, as if it explains everything. Or maybe it does. “Sending angry people into war doesn’t always work out so well.” He sighs and leans back on his hands, head tilted up to the sky. “You and your math nerd seem to be coming along.”

Krem plucks a long blade of grass and shoves it between his teeth to give him something to do. “Seems that way.” He’s thought about writing letters, but the Storm Coast isn’t so far from Skyhold. With the roads sometimes still unreliable, there’s a good chance Krem will be back before his lettesr are. Also, he’s not sure what to say. Never wanted to write letters before. “He’s good.” It’s weird not wanting to go off with the Chargers because he has something to stay for. He’ll always come when the Chief calls, and not just because he’s on the payroll, but for the first time he has something worth staying for, and coming back to.

He expects the Chief to make a crack at him, but Krem gets a pat on the shoulder instead. “It’s a good look on you.” He drains the last of his ale and then stands and jerks his thumb toward his tent. “Remember you’re only on first watch. Go to sleep when it’s time.”

Krem wants to tell him to apologize to Dorian, but he thinks that Dorian is probably pretty good at saying exactly what’s on his mind. “Thanks, Chief.”

#

The meeting with the Qun is a shitshow, but Krem doesn’t know how bad it is until it’s all over.  
The Chief looks like he got gut punched, and Dorian keeps circling, practically wringing his hands. It takes hours to get everyone to calm the fuck down and tell him what’s going on.

They’d all been a single horn call away from death for the greater good and he hadn’t known anything was wrong. Krem gets the Chargers settled into camp and drinking. If they’re drinking, they’re not thinking and no one needs to know how close they came. The Chief chose them. That’s enough.

Krem steers clear of the Chief the whole way back to Skyhold. He’s not talking to anyone. Spends most night wandering the edges of camp instead of sleeping. During the day, he travels by himself. Every time his eyes catch on Krem he flinches and Krem’s not really ready for whatever conversation they need to have. 

Face still bloody, The Iron Bull had offered Krem a job on the spot. Had there been a contract, Krem would have signed without thought. He knows he’s going to die for the Chief one day. It’s the nature of the merc business. They will die for him. Krem thinks it’s the first time the Chief really understands what they’re willing to give up. That they go where he points, horns up, because they trust him. If the retreat had never been sounded, it still would have been worth it.

#

Skyhold is alive with refugees and new recruits when they return. Krem barely takes enough time to stow his gear and slough off the grim of the road before he goes to seek out Felix. He wants a friendly face after the trip they’ve had. He runs into him on his way up to the library.

“Dorain said I should find you. It was a bad trip?”

Most of the Chargers have rooms in the tavern, or sleep out of tents with the troops. Krem elected to take a room in the fortress, just off the kitchens where the heat from the fires helped keep out the worst of the chill. He holds out a hand and twines his fingers with Felix’s as he leads him to his room, since it’s not a conversation he wants to have in public. 

The room itself is nice enough. His neighbors work in the kitchens and tend to be quiet. He’s got a wide bed separated from the rest of the room behind a screen and a sitting area with a couple of chairs and a long couch. It pays to do favors for the Lady Montilyet. Krem brings back items that could be used to gift to visiting dignitaries and Josephine sees to it that his requisitions move to the top of the list.

Krem drops to the couch, fully expecting Felix to take the chair by his side and is pleasantly surprised when he sits next to him. They lean into each other as Krem tells the story as he knows it. “And now we wait to see what the Qun will do, if it was just a test of the Chief or if they plan to go to war.”

Felix seems stuck on a different point, though. “But if it was a lost cause, why would you hold your ground?” Felix has shifted so that Krem can stretch out with his head in Felix’s lap. 

“Because I trust the Chief to know what needs to be done. He’s got a better view of the board, always has.” Because sometimes the things that looked hopeless turned out okay and Krem is willing to keep playing those odds. And even if they don’t come out in his favor, he knows the Chief is thinking of long term goals.

The hands smoothing through his hair tighten, just a touch. “He’s not playing chess and you’re not pawns.”

Krem shrugs not sure how else to explain it. “I trust him. He’s earned that from me, from all of us really.” Felix smells good, like paper and leather and Krem turns on his side to press his face into Felix’s stomach to breathe him in. The weariness that built up while they’re on the road hits him all at once and he yawns while Felix laughs at him. “Sorry I’m not better company.”

“Hush. You’re perfect.” Felix soothes his hands through Krem’s hair, over his shoulders and down his back. As far as he can reach, lulling Krem to sleep without even trying.

When he wakes, Krem’s neck is sore and he’s hot, but Felix is still with him, reading one of Krem’s books. “Enjoying the book?”

Felix sets it aside with a smile. “I think I like the company better. Though I had no idea military strategy could be so interesting.”

Krem sits up and rolls his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness. He can’t remember the last time he fell asleep in the company of someone not in the Chargers. “I’d’ve thought that would have been part of your education.”

“When it was clear that my weak magic would keep me out public life, my father let me study as I wished. Math was always more interesting.” He reaches out to run his fingers over the side of Krem’s face. It shouldn’t feel so good. “Are you feeling better?”

“Wasn’t feeling bad before.”

He sweeps his thumb under Krem’s eye. “I’ve never seen you so tired.”

Krem leans into the touch. “To be fair, you haven’t seen that much of me.”

He expects Felix to argue or to maybe spar with him a little, verbally. Instead, Felix closes the distance between them. It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that because Felix is gentle it does not mean he is hesitant. He holds Krem’s face cradled in his hands and kisses him with a long, slow slide of teeth and tongue until Krem is breathless and aching. When he brought Felix to his room, it was to give them some space to talk, but now he realizes it’s also the most alone they’ve been. Skyhold isn’t much for privacy, even behind closed doors, someone is always knocking or bursting in with important news. More than once he’s gotten an eyeful of the Chief and Dorian when he was trying to deliver a message.

But that’s not what he wants to think about, he wants to focus on the feel of Felix’s fingers against his throat and the way he’s breathless and moaning against Krem’s lips. Felix shifts and tugs at Krem until Krem is up and straddling Felix’s thighs, where he can drop his hands to Krem’s waist and then lower to squeeze at his ass. 

“I _missed_ you,” Felix whispers against Krem’s throat, kissing the exposed skin and mouthing at his collarbone.

Krem tells him the same and it feels like a confession. His hands fumble at Felix’s laces, clumsy in his haste. Finally, finally, his work is done and he can wrap his hand around Felix’s hardening cock, feel it grow in his hand. Felix shudders against him, and moans damply against the well of Krem’s throat. Krem keeps up a steady pace, smoothing his thumb against the head as Felix shivers and jerks against him. 

With unsteady hands, Felix tries to work open Krem’s breeches, but Krem bats his hands away. “I’m trying to concentrate,” he growls against Felix’s mouth. He can feel Felix swell in his hand, his balls drawn tight against his body and then he’s coming, Krem’s name on his lips, hands clutching tight enough to bruise.

The slow, sleepy lethargy that Krem finds so endearing after orgasm is apparently not something Felix does. As soon as Krem has worked the last bit of come from his cock, he rears up flips their positions, depositing Krem on the couch, splay-legged. He kneels on the floor drags Krems breeches down and then falls in to put his mouth on Krem.

His tongue is wide and flat and moves in just the right ways, circling and massaging before Felix grins up at Krem and sucks him in. Krem digs his hands into Felix’s hair to keep from crushing his head and howls as he comes, harder than he has in ages. He’s stunned it’s over so fast. He tends to usually need a little more build up.

Felix is smug as he sits back on his heels, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “You are a delight.” He climbs up onto the couch and they curl around each other until twin growling stomachs make them move.

#

Krem is on the practice field when Gatt returns with a message from the Qun. It’s better than expected, they won’t have to go to war with the breach, Corypheus, and the Qunari all at the same time, but it’s still not _good_ news. The Chief takes it pretty well, though Krem can see he’s still hurting. Dorian has been shadowing the practice field all morning on the ground instead of peering down from above. 

The Chief makes him run through the ridiculous shield drills even though Krem got it ages ago. He can stand as a wall to the Chief’s battering ram when he needs it. It’s a surprise, then, when the Chief gives up the chance to shove him around and give him the rest of the day off.

“You’ve been fighting hard enough and you deserve a little time to enjoy the good things.” He nods his head to Felix, who is a little flushed and standing just on the edge of the field. “Drinks after dark. Bring your nerd boyfriend. He looks like he’d be a fun drunk.”

“Thanks, Chief.” They both know it’s for more than the afternoon off and that no words could ever cover what the Chief gave up for them. But Krem appreciates it all the same and he wants The Iron Bull to know that. 

The Chief pats his shoulder, shoving him in Felix’s direction. “Get out of here.”

And it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of exploring what The Demands of the Qun means to the Chargers and to Krem in particular. It's even more interesting when he's got all this other stuff going on.
> 
> These charming bastards continue to make me giddy and I think there are a few more installments in store for them.


End file.
